Legacy of Zero: Blood Omen
by Professor Image
Summary: I ask you a very simple question: What if C.C. was really a vampire?
1. Death and Rebirth

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Author's Note:

I'm not writing for Manga and Anime like the Code Geass series right now…I just had this idea that I felt like sharing it right now. I'll wait to see everyone's reaction to this story before deciding on anything permanent. Until then I'll write as the ideas come to me.

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Chapter I:

"Death and Rebirth"

* * *

XXX

* * *

Vae Victus — woe to the conquered…

Is it ironic that I was now the one suffering? Not anything as pedestrian as physical pain. Rather the cruel jab of impotent anger — the hunger for revenge. I didn't care if I was in heaven or hell — all I wanted was to kill my assassins.

What was the point of all my machinations — all those lofty goals that I set for myself? What was the point of living for the soul sake of destroying my home country if this is the fate I wrought? What was the point of hating my father and choosing to hunt for my mother's assassins if I was predestined to fall as I have? What was the point of wanting to grant my sister's one wish if I were so powerless to do so? But — I supposed that the poetic irony made some form of sense.

I had lived for revenge…did it not make sense that I would die, yearning for revenge?

Bound as I was, staked down like some effigy to pain and stripped bare for all of hell to spy. Brimstone filled the air, fire bubbling below the cliff that I was shackled. My skin was slick with blood and blackened by the hellfire that flickered across the endless plains of liquid fire before me. Every second I inhaled burning ash which seared my lungs…and finally, to complete the menagerie of suffering were the opened wounds in my chest and face…bullet holes.

Filled to bursting with hatred and fury, which gurgled below the surface of my cracking, burnt skin, like the liquid far below the cliff that I was bound upon, all I could do was glare futilely into the lake of fire that stretched out as far as the eye could see.

I rallied against my chains, thrashing and spitting, determined to break my bondage and to find and slay my killers, even if I had to do so by tearing their throats out with my teeth.

The screams of thousands, perhaps millions of damned souls wailed in agony throughout the inferno. I glanced up, sneering, the skin of my cheeks rupturing and bleeding aggressively. I roared my fury to all who bore witness to my weakness and anguish.

Unexpectedly, someone giggled.

I came alert, instantly stilling as I listened for my watcher. A trace of feather light footsteps clicked near soundlessly behind me. Cold fingers brushed across the blackened skin of my shoulder. I grimaced.

A musical voice sighed, cold breath ghosting across my ruined right ear. "My poor boy."

Sometimes you get what you wish for.

Every bit as painful as it sounded, I rasped.

"Who are you?"

"Maybe you shouldn't be asking me _who_ I am…but _what_ I am?" breathed the woman against my ear. Soft hands ghosted across the ragged skin of my chest sensually, almost erotic if it were not for the simple fact that such a light touch instantly opened the tattered skin off my chest causing blood to spill down my ruined skin and across this ghoulish woman's hands.

Shallowly, I took a breath, trying with all my considerable will to contain my torment. Like the soft tinkling of bells, she was giggling behind me. As I leaned away from her light touch she followed, digging her sharp nails into the battered skin of my chest and sunk her sharp teeth into the soft skin of my throat.

"Arrrrrggghh!" my roar ripped from my throat, tearing open my vocal cords and spilling blood down my front. Moaning wantonly, the woman eagerly wrapped one shapely, smooth and bare leg around my front to hold my gore covered form still.

At long last, my temptress and tormentor tore her face from my neck, which left a gaping chasm in my now ruined neck which spouted blood like a fount. Purposely leaning towards me, she ground her body across my agonized person and delight in my suffering.

"You are Lelouch vi Britannia no longer," warned she as she placed her hand over the left side of my chest. "I will give you a life anew. I will give you immortality…and I will give you _power_. In exchange you will become my Soul Reaver…my Angel of Death. You will live for me and only me…" now singularly finished with her diatribe she curled her fingers against the rough, broken sink of my chest and pushed. She was knuckle deep into my ribcage within seconds, pushing at the sturdy matter of my bones…but for all their strength, my body was all too fragile in the face of this monstrous woman.

Her fingers sunk into my skin deep, pushing and grinding against my ribcage until at last the bones splintered. Fractured, they snapped and broken apart to her touch, allowing her to wrap her dainty fingers around the still pulsating lump of flesh that was my own heart.

She tugged.

Pain like nothing I had ever experienced washed over me, and I succumbed. I screamed.

The wet sounds that followed this mad woman's every action were like nothing I had ever heard. She twisted, prying my heart slowly from the confines of my chest. I felt my arties and veins giving way, and in seconds she removed the still beating organ from my chest to hold it before my shocked gaze.

Darkness rushed over me from every direction. My body became heavy with the weakness of death. I felt myself slumping, letting the nothingness consume me. I found myself isolated, secluded in darkness. My weakness was everywhere as I felt my sense of self fading into the ethers.

Just as I felt my own essence fading, sudden pain had me groping in the dark for my chest, but I found my arms bound still. A hand, cold and small, pushed into the gaping hole that was my devastated chest and placed something there that thrummed with life. It sent a cruel power into my every vein that had me sucking in greedy gasps of air as I struggled against new agony.

"You seem to have a reason to go. Don't worry — this isn't the end…" A singular thump resounded from every corner of the darkness.

"Who are you?" The pain was too much, and my voice came out more as a croak as I desperately fought to contain the tears that were spilling down my ruined cheeks. At my behest, she told me her name, and offered me a simple choice.

The Necromancer C.C. offered me a chance for revenge. And like a fool, I jumped at her offer without considering the cost.

Nothing is free.

I awoke to the cruel light of twilight parting through emaciated board and mortar. A sweet stench clung to the air, tantalizing in its sharp pungency. I found my throat strangely parched and a thirst was upon me. That scent, whatever it was, seemed like the sweet wine to my new senses. I fervently desired to quench my sudden, maddening thirst on whatever made that sweet scent.

I slowly stood, finding to my extreme distaste my killers only meters away, backs turned to my strewn form as they headed towards the warehouse doors with a familiar form carried upon the strong shoulders of the leader. Long emerald hair spilled down behind the man's legs, connected to the head of the dead woman in his grasp, and vacant golden eyes watched everything but did not take anything in.

Suddenly, I knew the identity of my _benefactor. _Suddenly, I was aware of the inhuman strength that coursed through my cold veins. I knew why I was here.

Their sneering faces were forever etched upon my memory. I had crossed death for this moment. My mind was empty save for one thought: I would kill.

My scowl opened, a set of deadly fangs primed for use. I knew then that it was true.

Nothing is free.

Not even revenge.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's note:

I really don't know what to tell you. This was just a random idea that came to me earlier today and I felt like typing it. Obviously, it's a "What if C.C. was really a vampire and turned Lelouch into a vampire when they first met at the start of the series" kind of story.

Obviously, if it's me writing it, Lelouch and C.C. wouldn't be ANYTHING like the common trend of vampires. Romantic, angst-ridden little melodramatic two fanged mosquitos are not what I call a vampire. If no one recognizes where I got the idea for this story then I'll explain it right now.

This story…is largely based on the Legacy of Kain video game series. In that series, vampires are cruel, bloodthirsty, solitary hunters of the night, who would more so rip your throat out and feast on your carcass than they would try to seduce you. Granted, in Blood Omen 2 Kain wanted Umah to be his queen, the fact that he ultimately killed her for her betrayal means that romance really isn't their focus.

This story? I'm kind of iffy about the romance, truthfully. I don't even know if I'll continue to write this, honestly. I just needed to write it down so that I could focus on other projects. But if I had to write a Code Geass fanfiction than this would probably be what I would want to write.

Obviously, the vampires in this story will be like the vampires in the Legacy of Kain series, which means that they are more like the classic legends of vampires. If I ever continue, then you'll know what I mean.

So…what do you guys think? Should I continue?

Ta.

Professor Image.


	2. There will be Blood

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Chapter II:

"There will be Blood"

* * *

XXX

* * *

My gut curled with the rage. It twisted and wreathed from my stomach and up my throat. White hot, it burned with devastating cruelty in my veins, delighting in my misery. But — this was a pain that I would not, nor could not shy from. I welcomed it, as if I were a woman welcoming a returning lover to my bosom. I sank my soul deeply into the exquisitely bitter torment of my fury.

There came no rationalization, no justification for my purpose, useless as it would become once uttered in my thoughts. I would kill, not out of any interest in avenging the slain oppressed that lay sprawled amongst the ground and debris, their bodies as horrid and downtrodden as they were in life, nor did I seek to raise my fist with the purpose of defending those who still clung desperately to their meaningless lives. Rather, my purpose was a simple one indeed: revenge from the life taken from me.

I experienced no shame for my thoughts — revenge is motivation enough. At least, it is honest.

At last; I thought with some deliciously homicidal vindication at the tip of my tongue; we have come full circle.

The guttural sound rose up from the pit of my stomach, stole over my body so that I became wracked with tremors. A sweet scent hung in the air, a smell like death, pain and interestingly enough…home.

As the growl peeked in sound, rising and falling through the warehouse, my prey finally took notice of my ominous presence. The shock worn plainly on their faces was amusing, but the fear that tinged their scents, a smell such as sweat and a musk that hinted at submission was the subject of my delight.

"How the — just what the fuck is going on?" the potency of the captain's fear was the greatest, the most concentrated. I enjoyed the way his hand literally shook as he raised his gun barrel to center on my forehead. Not this time. I would never again feel such helplessness as before; as my own death clutching maniacally at my throat.

I was in action before I was aware; soaring faster than a human was ever capable. The captain's gunfire was like thunder in my ears, made all the more profound and alarming by the accompanying hail of bullets that followed his first shots. The whole Royal Guard was in action, but I was already gone.

I did not think, nor did I savor the moment as I should. I would regret it later, for this moment was undeniably fleeting, but for now, I relished my power and the grip of fear that I held upon my murderers.

One instant I was standing relatively harmless before a firing squad, and the exact next instant I was among them.

Both my hands lashed out, though I did not know my own intentions. To the soldier to my left my fingers easily pushed through the man's gut, sinking deeply into his flesh before I could wrap my fingers around one of his kidneys. To the man on my right, I forced my hand to spear into his back and wrap tightly around his spine. With two equally massive tugs I removed both organ and bone, tearing open their bodies in a spray of blood, gore and frail tissue.

I held my prizes overhead even as my victims screamed, a lump of flesh in one hand and a solid length of vertebra attached to a head. One fell boneless to the ground, already dead, while the other clutched at the chasm in his abdomen. I snarled, and with a belligerent backhand I broke the fool's neck while flinging him onto two of his brethren at the same time.

I was moving before the soldier's heart had even stopped beating, rushing another solider while simultaneously avoiding gunfire. With deftness that would have surprised me if I were not gripped in the rage, I wrapped my fingers around the man's neck and dug in. Tightly clenching, blood spurting around my hand and making my grip sleek and tenuous, I took hold of the man's trachea and pulled.

The ragged piece of flesh was thrown without care or even casual note, sending a nearby soldier scrambling in a panic as it smacked wetly into his face. I lunged; jerking the man's head to the side, unsure of my intentions but eager in my fury, and bit down.

Blood gushed into my mouth, hot and warm and oh so sweet. I savored the flavor even as I turned the man around to use as a meat shield against a storm of bullets. The wet _plat-plat-plat_ that accompanied every bullet as they sunk into his back was like music to my ears, and the way the man uselessly struggled, his strength fading fast as I gorged myself was like a lover's embrace. I fed deeply, greedily trying to sate the ravenous hunger that overcame me then. The world could fall around my head and I would not care. Not in this moment. Blood, I now understood, was my savior, my lover, my god. There would be no chance that I could ever give it up, not now that I have had a taste.

The sublime moment was finished, far too fast for my comfort. Angry and frustrated as I was at the slowing of the warm tide I began to clamp down with my teeth, tearing and ripping away to try and strengthen the flow…but there would never be enough blood in the human body to satisfy my thirst.

My abuse of my victim's neck was not without consequence. Soon, the head fell away with a wet tearing of skin and flesh, bits of ragged tissue and skin clinging desperately for one final moment before it came undone, bitten clean through. I did not register this though, turning hungry eyes instead onto my next victims. The soldiers who had been the means of my demise stood several meters away, ashen faced and perspiring excessively. Some, I noted with obvious revulsion, had even lost control of their bowels in their terror.

I had no time to think upon this though, for the hunger was upon me. The roar that tore itself from my throat as I stalked forward was distinctively inhuman. I was hunting now. I would kill and I would feed.

What of my prey…?

It was simple.

They were cattle.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note:

Yeah, I'm not writing this story with any real design in mind. It's more character driven, I think.

Well…this chapter was interesting. I wanted to continue further, but I would have just cut to the next scene after the "fight" because it's all pretty much the same standard fare. Lelouch goes on a massacre, kills everyone. You know; THAT stuff.

I'm more interested in the confrontation with C.C. I have a clear idea of C.C. and Lelouch's characterization. I can't help being anxious of exploring their personalities.

Again, I'm not making any promise on the next chapter, or even the pairing. I'll write if I find myself compelled to write, but I'm not exactly motivated to write for the Anime and Manga fandom anymore.

However, I'll listen to any concerns anyone has on this story, or really anything, actually. There are a few people that I'd like to discuss future plans for this story with, and I'm perfectly fine with hearing any suggestions for my next actions from the fans.

I advocate writing freedom and creative writing as a pastime. I like to be as responsive and caring to my readers as possible, so if anyone just wants to talk with me about any random subject then I am perfectly fine with lending my ear.

But that's neither here or there.

Ta.

Professor Image.


	3. Lips like Blood, Blood like Chocolate

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Chapter III:

"Lips like Blood, Blood like Chocolate"

* * *

XXX

* * *

Piercing the divide between the aged mortar and paneling, a single beam of sunlight slashed down from the roof to splash across a face that was the perfect image of beauty.

Pale yet vibrant; fragile yet strong; supple yet firm — liken to springtime, sublime and beautiful, save also the cruelty of winter, harsh and barren — a mask frozen in a picture of tranquility, still as if taken into death. Soft curves running the length of her body, clinging to a frame built for killing. Such a gentle face she wore, with small features and short eyebrows, accompanied by long streamers of vibrantly green hair that spooled upon the ground. Like Death, and life locked in exhibition of contrasts.

Still as death, yet she waited.

Buried to the hilt into her breast was a blade. I recognized the design. The uniform simplicity was iconic amongst the Britannia military. If it were a ceremonial execution I would have suspected to find a more elaborate design.

Her name was unknown, her purpose illusive. Seemingly finding peace, yet she was wholly wrong; a sleeping predator ready to sink poisoned claws into tender flesh.

I made no conscious decision. Dripping in blood and gore, tense with the need to kill and hunt. But she was there, and something inside me despaired.

The blade was removed with careful slowness, a rush of long since cold blood seeping into her white clothes. A hole in the jacket ruined the garment, exposing a pale breast that was tainted my pink slashing marks newly healed. Once removed, I brought the blade to my wrist without any consideration, and allowed the wound to bleed unbound upon the dead woman's wound.

C.C…my creator…C.C. the Necromancer… C.C. the vampire…

She roused with sudden voracity, rising and lunging in the same move. Her fingers wrapped taunt to my arm as she brought it to her mouth and bit down upon my bleeding wrist with sudden desperation.

I did not experience the pain as a human would. I recognized it for what it was, but the action of having this woman clasp her lips to my open wrist and drink heartily of my blood was strangely erotic and almost euphoric. She was not a silent drinker either, instead groaning and gesticulating with her hips upon my body as her lips and tongue flashed over the slight wound. She was rampant with desire, her form undulating with a need that transcended the physical and the mundane. Pleasure, of a like dissimilar to sensation and attributed to taste overwhelmed her senses and seemed to exude from her in a palpable torrent of sensuality as she gyrated against my lean form and my awakened masculinity.

Eroticism, a sensation that I was ill used to that bound me still and helpless to her frightful demands. Sensuality and brutality washed over me, spilling over my senses and consuming me in one unearthly moment. Her golden eyes watched me even as she drank; her lips and tongue flashing almost crudely but with the manner of a woman who understood how to evoke a man's lust. Neither physical nor spiritual, her pleasure rushed over the both of us. I could not describe or begin to understand how such euphoria was possible, or even what connected us so. I found myself at her mercy as she controlled everything. All interaction between us, everything that I have done, and everything that she was doing concurrently; they were all at her control and behest. Her fierceness and virility, her passion and her bloodlust were all bound tightly under a lock forged of willpower and stubbornness. If she felt the need to find satisfaction in sexual release, I knew that I would be unable to stop her.

The moment passed, however, as her thirst waned. Her body stilled with her perfect violence, placing one last kiss to my wrist before removing her mouth from my wound. However, she did not deign to remove her person from myself, resting her loins upon my lap. Her lips, full and distracting as they were, pink with fresh blood newly stolen from so many victims, was pulled back into a smile that spoke of travesty and desire, lust and malice.

"You've done remarkably well, for a fledgling," her voice was cool, musical and exquisite, like bells and flutes and arctic wind. Her golden eyes were narrowed, not in any intent for violence upon my person, but with the watchfulness of age and interest. "At the very least you managed to avoid a killing blow."

"They did not seem prepared to face me," I explained, well aware of the tenseness in my frame. I knew that this woman was a danger to my person, and yet I could not wholly attribute my rigidity to my vulnerability. I knew quite well that she was aware of my true disparity, for she soon dropped one small and pale hand to grasp around the rigidity that she rode upon.

"Mmm…We're made to fight, and kill," her voice was a groan as she rocked herself against mine, keeping her eyes locked to mine. "We fulfill our purpose, we kill and survive, and well…we have our needs. Killing just makes us hungry…and aroused, you see?"

A healthy groan was her answer. Not the same pleasure of drinking blood, no, but physical pleasure had its own merits as well, I found. Even as she casually spoke, her hand was tugging, pulling at my sanity.

"Is — is that right?" I stumbled.

"You're young," there was a laugh at her mouth, the tinkling of bells; "The instincts are more than apparent. But I'm here. If you are to be my sword than I am to be your shield; do you understand, Lelouch?" she demanded my answer.

I did not immediately answer, so unused to physical affection was I that even her careful, light touch would spell my end any moment. At last she stopped her maddening manipulations, allowing me to consider her words. However, I only gave thought to one specific.

"How is it that you know my name?" I questioned, provident and suspicious. Her lips pulled up in a smile, exposing a strangely bestial teeth line. Teeth that were of the impression of human, but strangely she was of possession of four fangs. Her golden eyes were more inclined to mischief and wariness, but there was something abhorrently wrong in her gaze.

"I am composed of many secrets, my dear boy," was the answer she gave me. Her movements were sudden, too quick for a human eye — I was not immediately prepared for her actions as she moved to grasp my cheeks, leaning her small frame closer so that she was nearly upon me completely. "I look like a doll, yes? But I am so much more. I have given my heart to you freely, and taken your own at our agreement. Therefore, I will choose what to reveal and when to reveal, but avail yourself to learn that I have full intent to speak these secrets in your ear one day."

"Who are you?" I asked, for her identity escaped me though I had once heard it already. I did not consider a dream reality, or reality a dream, though clearly my definition for such was closing upon a precipice of obscurity.

"I am C.C., and you are _not_ Lelouch…at least, not as he had been," she explained, rubbing her fingers down my cheeks until she at last could smooth the hard ridge of my lips. "Your human life is gone, now you are tainted. You are vampyr now, forever and ever, you see. The life you knew is gone…"

"What have you done to me?" I demanded furiously, pushing at her shoulders, though she was stronger than I and held me still with a calm patience that only fanned the flames of my rage. I did not tire, and neither did she, so for several minutes I thrashed uselessly underneath her until at last I settled impotently to glower.

"Your life was forfeit," she explained, her hands moving to glide across the tense skin of my throat and then upon my shoulders. "I decided that I had purpose for you, and resurrected you by bequeathing my heart to you."

"Your heart?" the curiosity piqued my voice, my eyes taking in the serenity of her expression that masked the mischief and violence in her eyes.

"Yes," she nodded, leaning towards me to place her lips upon my brow. Though her actions were gentle, the cruelty in her eyes somehow corrupted the moment. "Torn from my chest and implanted into your own, replaced with your heart into _my_ chest. We now share blood, bound my flesh, blood, soul and vow. You are my Soul Reaver, my Sword, and my Angel of Death…"

"I don't understand…" I frowned. I did not enjoy my confusion. Her voice chimed with her laughter as she took in my words.

"No, I suspect you wouldn't," she placed another kiss upon my brow, and then she was to her feet faster than I could react. She did not offer a hand, and as such I climbed to my own feet, well aware of the vulnerability in the action.

"We all experience weakness, child of my curse. If I hadn't chosen to resurrect you the moment of your death than I could have avenged you and not become still with the death when my pursuers impaled my heart," she brushed at her body, seemingly lamenting her ruined top that exposed her now whole breast to the air. "But…we must each make a choice, my Sword, and I chose to revive you, to birth my Angel into the world. And for that, I suffered."

"That's how they got to you? They struck after you replaced my heart into your chest?" at my question she gave a final definite nod.

She cocked her head, turning slightly, seemingly distracted in thought. "We'll need to continue this conversation another time." She told me, turning her body to the fall wall. "We have company," she warned.

As if in answer to her words, the wall she was watching exploded.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note:

Yeah…I kinda let this one get away with me. I have a clear idea of C.C. and Lelouch's characters, and trying to show them off in as few words as possible can get kind of annoying when trying to adjust to the language of the Legacy of Kain games.

Anyone who has played the Legacy of Kain games knows just what kind of language is used. The writers of the games based the language off of Elizabethan English, so everything sounded straight out of one of Shakespeare's plays. Not quite the same vocabulary or grammar, but close enough to call to mind the old playwright himself. I'm struggling to modernize the English used in the Legacy of Kain games, which the games themselves tried to modernize Elizabethan English. It's a struggle in futility and I have instances of brilliance and instances of failure in equal amounts.

On top of that, C.C. is a much more complex character than I have ever written her. And Lelouch is kind of like a more humble and mellow Kain from Blood Omen 1 and 2. Trying to find a balance to their dichotomy is a nightmare.

If there IS a pairing, it'll likely be either Lelouch/C.C. or Lelouch/Multi-ship with a focus on C.C. because even if they aren't going to have a romance they'll still be sexing each other.

Anyways, I'm still not making promises on the next chapter or the pairing. I'm still too conflicted by this story to decide whether to make this an official story or not. If you have concerns than let me know.

Ta.

Professor Image.


	4. Where do we go from Here?

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Chapter IV:

"Where do we go from Here?"

* * *

XXX

* * *

Our intruder was an object of immense height, a body crafted from metals and plastics and rubber, as if it were some ancient statue made of brass that was capable of autonomous movement. A vaguely humanoid body could not hide the underlying purpose behind the craftsmanship. A weapon of war was no more able to deny its function than I could deny my genes.

Bearing a mighty weapon, a monstrously proportioned rifle, if I were to guess, ludicrously huge to be used by any hands save a giant's, whose sole aim was directed at I and my companion.

C.C. paid no more attention to the threat than I would pay an insect, cocking a green eyebrow and offering a faint smile. She made a motion with her hand, as if to tell me in advance that I was perfectly adapt at saving us from an immensely gruesome and premature death. But can one truly know the intentions of a woman, be they immortal or not?

"You, boy," a voice quite like a drum, low but resounding, even as I detected the feminine edge hidden behind discipline and self-righteousness, demanded with a ferocity that left little time to compose myself. "Why are all these Royal Guardsmen dead? Why are you covered in blood? Do you have any idea what has happened?"

With an air of fear, though I felt a distinct lack of that made me feel slightly off-kilter, I raised my hands to my head in a practiced non-threatening gesture as I spoke.

"None, ma'am," was what I said, as slowly as I was capable while my mind continued apace several leagues beyond the present, "My companion and I had thought to skip school for a little gambling with the Elevens, when soldiers began to attack. Though we managed to escape the initial conflict, we still found ourselves bearing the signs of a brush with death. Whence we came upon this warehouse, thinking that we should hide and wait out the madness, we found to our horror these men slain with no discernable cause to our eyes…" I explained, well aware that a fine eye for detail could destroy my hurried excuse.

"Is that so, schoolboy?" it did not seem that I met the controller of the machine's favor, the note of disrespect and frustration as evident as the fact that I was a male and that C.C. was clearly a fine representation of the fairer sex. "Well, you might find it prudent to hurry upon a checkpoint and report your presence to the higher ups. I imagine that you'll be in quite the talking to. If you offer no more resistance to it, I shall radio for aid from a nearby unit."

As I knew that a scrutiny of my history would prove my story to be in fact fabricated, it was decided with fairly no thought on a conscious level that I must remove this controller from her Knightmare and overwhelm her with my power. As I began, I offered a helpless smile up to my watcher.

"I thank you, ma'am," said I, with the bearing of a man readying himself for a lashing, "However, as I much not care for waiting, being as I'm worried for my lady and my safety, I would wish to request your aid. My name is Alan Spencer, and seeing as my father is a Duke, he would be very appreciative of your aid in this moment of weakness," lie it might have been, every cell in my body tensed with the very concept of weakness. At my side, a noticeable strain took to the edge of C.C.'s lips. It seems that such a reaction was common place amongst our people.

A silenced stretched between my watcher and me, until I offered with an uneasy smile on my face, "My ID is placed in my breast pocket. Should you wish to check, I can bear to part with it for a moment, ma'am…" I knew that such an admission would catch the interest of the controller.

"Is that so?" asked she. Then, to my eyes, the machine lowered to its haunches and its hunchback opened. With ease of much practice, the controller of the frame removed herself from the cockpit, and landed softly upon the floor with a grace that was distinctive of catlike quality.

Some part of my person deeply recessed into the darkest pit of my soul could appreciate beauty as he saw it. Whence my eyes landed upon the woman who rose to her full height I beheld such a beauty that for such a moment I was still with a silence that was unsettling in a man. A height that was unusual for a woman, skin painted as if from olives and a voluptuous form that would catch the eye of any man who dared to look though as foolish as he would be to do such as her bearing was quite suspicious and quick to violence, all of this topped with long blue hair worn in a long braid down one side of her body, this woman, whomever she maybe was a creature of beauty.

"Your hands must stay in the air," warned she. A small hand that might have been better equipped for sewing moved with a sudden grace as she snatched at the weapon upon one shapely hip. She raised, the sight of the handgun not pointed at any target but cautious in any case. "I shall remove your ID now," she explained, stepping towards me.

It was not I that acted. With the suddenness of a snake strike, movement such a speed that I could not even glimpse, C.C.'s small body fell upon our interloper and deftly brought her to the ground in a single blow. Whereupon, C.C. bore down on the woman's back with one foot while also grasping and binding the woman's arms behind her back.

"Be still, child," C.C. hissed, sneering down at the human underfoot. "If I so must I will snap your spine, and I will endeavor to _enjoy_ it…"

It was C.C.'s sadistic chuckle that stilled the blue haired woman's struggles.

"Lelouch, my Angel, come here," C.C. beckoned, moving one hand to budge the other woman's neck aside and offer me her neck. I approached, wary of my creator's next action, but C.C. took up the other woman in her arms and urged me further.

"You are yet still young, my dear," said C.C. promptly, her full lips exposing her fangs in a smile that might have been a grimace worn by any creature save us. "You will need blood, and blood taken from a human woman is all the sweeter. I should think this woman will be more a pleasing meal then your last?" as a seductress, C.C. need not tempt me more. I found myself leaning towards, ravenous in a way that I could not compare before. Next to the soldiers before, this woman's scent was intoxicating. I knew that her blood would be all the sweeter.

"Easy now, dear," warned C.C., pressing the palm of her hand onto the back of my skull as she brought me down upon the blue haired woman's neck. "You need not make her suffer. She can enjoy it just as we do…"

I did not understand on a conscious level, but some part of my being reacted to my creator's beckoning, and I found myself slowly biting into the woman's neck, gently drawing her blood into my mouth and down into my gullet. The woman was moaning, not exactly in pain, and not wholly because of my own actions, as C.C.'s hand had moved from my head down to cup one of the woman's plentiful breasts. Necessity was what drove me, but I found myself appreciating this new experience, moving all the closer to the woman and grasping at her buttocks, experimenting with her flesh with all the curiosity of a child that just found a new toy.

The darkness in my being reacted to the blood flowing down and into my gullet; awakened as it was by the taste and texture of this woman's body, that darkness overflowed from my body and soul and overwhelmed the lot of us. I was aware of my creator panting into my ear from over the shoulder of the taller woman, and of my own groans of appreciation as my body awakened to physical pleasures in reaction to taste and experience, however, I was unprepared to hear the eager whimpers that spilled out from my victim's lips as I drained her life from her throat.

It was C.C. who stopped me, somehow managing to seduce my newly awakened desires to such that she was capable of pulling my teeth from my strangely welcoming victim. She held the other woman in her arms, the blue haired soldier boneless and vacantly staring in my direction. C.C. gently pressed one palm to the woman's neck and looked to me now with intent.

"Humans _can_ be more to us than just food," C.C. explained. Her smile was amused as she enjoyed the expression of my masculinity at my desires. "That is, if you shall contain yourself."

"H—how do you mean?" I could not seemingly drink in enough air, desperate with the need for control.

"We call them 'ghouls'," lectured C.C., using her second hand to wipe at the other woman's sweaty brow. "We take a little blood, then we feed them a little blood, and they become something…else…"

"Else?" I wondered.

C.C. rolled her shoulders in a shrug. "Not wholly human, but neither are they vampyr. They could be messengers, familiars, partners, accomplices, friends, lovers, and concubines, whatever a vampyr should ever need."

"I don't understand," I admitted. C.C.'s voice was a sigh as she nodded her own understanding.

"Yes, I thought not," claimed she. "I felt your conviction when the contract was made. You will need allies…and I am aware that a man needs his 'toys'. Is a woman not too your liking, my dear?" questioned C.C.

I do not claim to be a good man. As a vampyr I am less so.

I was distracted by scent and taste and texture, by matter and not completely so. The first introduction to feeding on a human I knew had inexorably corrupted whatever skewed morality that I claimed for my own. However, something of the human remained.

"What of the blood?" I asked, strangely concerned for the woman's wellbeing however unaware how to convey it.

"You can drink, yes," stated C.C. with a teasing lilt to her voice. "So long as she is well fed the recuperative powers that she would gain from you would keep her healthy."

"No, not food," I decried, shaking my head. It was hard to keep everything in perspective, for the vampyr instinct saw the woman as food only. She was human, however.

"What is it?" C.C. asked with some concern.

"I do not wish to make more monsters," said I. There became a note of frustration on the emerald haired immortal's face then at my words.

"What if she so chose it?" she questioned. I frowned. "You can't force anyone to _become_ a ghoul, my Angel, just as you can't force anyone to _become_ a vampire. We all make choices." She explained.

"I suppose so," I agreed uneasily. At last, C.C. smiled triumphantly, before leaning downwards to whisper into the other woman's ear.

"You've seen our power, little human," C.C.'s dark whisper began the seduction, though I could hear it quite easily, "We are vampyr, the eternal ones. We have powers that you couldn't even begin to imagine. Do you want that power?" at C.C.'s behest, the other woman nodded. "Good, immortality and power and eternal beauty can all be yours…for a price."

"W—w—what p—price?" slurred the woman.

"It's a fairly straight forward price, you understand," stated C.C., speaking as if she was making a business deal, "You become a ghoul for my Soul Reaver and prove that you're worthy of our Dark Gifts and we might feel inclined to change you…as it is, it's not that bad of a deal. You shall live much longer than a pitiful human, possess a stronger body and recover from much grievous wounds quicker than ever…and all you have to become is his ghoul," C.C. explained.

"I—I, can't I think about it?" the woman stumbled. At such a question, C.C. snarled, wrapping the hand around the other woman's throat tightly so that she was strangling the other woman until her face turned a painful blue.

Thus, after some moments, C.C. removed her hand from the other woman's throat, and sneered down at the woman. "No," she warned, violence in her voice, "You shall not have time to think. Either you will accept our offer now, or we shall drain you dry right here."

"Choose wisely, little human," C.C. smiled, but there was only malice in her eyes.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note:

I had _some _idea where I was going with this chapter, but it still managed to take me by surprise. A lot of the difficulties with this story are the language that I use to depict the events and the characterization of the individual characters. C.C. for one is very complicated, and though I have a detailed idea of who she is, a lot of what she says and does still manages to take me by surprise.

I kinda want to hear whether people want me to kill Villetta or not. At this point, I'm not predisposed to whether she lives or dies, though it would be fun to write her as a sex slave/familiar. Who knows?

I guess that's all I really have to say right now.

I'm still not making any promises about the next chapter or pairings. I probably won't know until the end of the first book. Since the current book is "Genesis", and is pretty much the origins of Zero, leading up to the big reveal of Zero, then the next would probably be the introduction of Cornelia, Euphemia, the formation of the Black Knights, and the battle of Narita. If ever I should get that far, then the chapters would probably become much longer, which would obviously mean that this…whatever the hell it is, is officially a story.

Ta.

Professor Image.


	5. A Touch of Corruption

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Verse V:

"A Touch of Corruption"

XXX

* * *

Submission weighed heavily on her soul; her eyes gave me the answer even before she was aware of it for herself.

"Y—yes, I w—want it…I want to be changed!" the woman's plea rang hollowly amongst the dead. Amongst the massacred, amongst the slaughtered remains of her allies, she pleaded for the enemy to take her, to _make_ her.

I did not so much as sneer before C.C. was moving; a small hand more befit of flowery than the death clamp that tugged the other woman to her feet. A lovely face masked in fury could not deny her beauty, nor could the other woman deny her pained cry as my cruel maker pulled her to her feet and bent her head aside to my ravenous gaze.

"That—" golden eyes burned similarly to the molten gold that they appeared, as if I could pull a gold nugget from her face if I were but to reach into her skull and remove one perfect globe. Snarling with a fury that stormed through her small frame quite liken to a tsunami, furious and cool, C.C. thrashed the other woman from side to side. "That was the wrong thing to say!"

"Did you not ask her whether she wish it to become a ghoul?" I questioned, neither recognizing nor appreciating the emerald haired woman's thought. C.C. whirled upon me like a cat pounces on its rodent prey, spitting and hissing as she threw our victim to my feet.

"Say you are then pleased with her decision?" C.C. demanded, pointing down at the pitiful wretch crying at my feet. "Say that you may trust with full heart a woman who so readily betrays her country, her beliefs for just a hint of power? Do you feel so assure of your own power not to feel mistrust in a woman who would so betray her allies?"

"No, I cannot," I agreed readily, helpless as I was to deny my creator's reason. C.C. smiled thinly, brushing with feather light measurement upon her full lips as she took in my assurance.

"You are plainly a greater man than have been born from your country of birth in some time," whimsically was the note of fondness that touched my creator's musical voice that moment. Her eyes closed, her body becoming as still as a statue and as pale as a corpse. It was beauty, fragility, and powerful masquerading as a woman. "Such guilt it is that I feel to rob you of your innocence, to taint you with my curse and demand your presence in my arms. Surely I am such a despicable woman to paint such a black mark upon a face as handsome as yours." In an instant she was before me, slender arms wrapped over my tense neck and bearing me close to her body. A gentle sound was uttered from her lips, sweet and cold breath brushing against my chin. Her golden yes beheld me, but as to the matter that she saw I did not know.

"Such a gentle face, this face that stares back at me," C.C. began in earnest, rubbing at my cheeks with her hands. "It is these eyes, those that once peered out of a mask of youth, too old for a child but much too pained to belong to a boy. It is these eyes that I do regret, for in my haste to change you I have created the eyes of a killer." With too quick movements that overwhelmed me and cast me in a trance the likes of which I could never know before this day, C.C. leaned towards my person and welcomed my lips with her own.

There was no sensation that I could attribute to the feel of her body clasped to mine, no touch that I have ever experienced could measure to the feather light graze of her full lips upon my own. She tasted like blood, sweet to me and addicting as the cocaine, but she was soft and welcoming, cold and warm, and smelt of blood, summer and home.

I measured not the expanse of time she held me there, not because sensation was deafened to me, but because I truly cared not. Though I had not conceived to seek the fulfillment of the flesh that a woman could provide in any moment prior to my death, it was C.C. who now held my attention in rapt isolation.

An odd sound broke the moment that so tightly bound us. A strangled cry of pain echoed to my ears and drew the cruelty forth from the depths of my damned soul. At last C.C. pulled from my lips, an almost pleased expression on her continence, before she turned with a snarl to the woman whose hair that she did so tightly clasp in her hand.

"Such a bold thing you have become," chided my maker as she slowly removed the knife from the other woman's fingertips. "Shall I burden myself by teaching you the manners that you so desperately inquire?"

An impulse motivated me then, a compulsion as profound as the rage that stalked me daily. It was I who stopped C.C.'s hand that sought to clench out the fool's life, though I cared not too, it was a thought that compelled me into action. C.C.'s gaze found me then, searching and surprised.

"I take no comfort in so hastily extinguishing a life. Perhaps there is another way? Surely this woman has more value than simply sustenance?" I questioned with the manner of a man far more comfortable in my maker's presence than would be safe. Cruelty was the continuance that C.C. wore then, a smile so malevolent that it seemed crafted from suffering. But her eyes were patient as she beheld me, the subtle amusement of a mother indulging her child.

"Perhaps there is value in this woman's life, or perhaps there is not?" said C.C. with a shrug of one shoulder before turning burning eyes to our captive, "Tell me, wench, what is your name?"

"V—Villetta," said the woman contained within C.C.'s slowly tightening grasp. The noise that came from my maker's lips sounded of amusement and annoyance in equal quantities. When, my emerald haired master removed her hand from the throat of her prey.

C.C. surprised me, placing her hands gently upon Villetta's brow and smoothing away the terror. An action most mesmerizing I understood as Villetta slowly followed the other woman's touch, leaning and swaying about as if in the midst of a drunken stupor. Long white fingers brushed down dark skin and the soft features of our prey, leaving bumps in their wake. Whence upon C.C.'s fingers came to lie across Villetta's lips they opened without resistance and took one lone digit with all the welcome of a lover's embrace.

I could not comprehend what it was that C.C. had done, for Villetta's terror had fled from her body to be replaced by euphoria and lust. The honeyed scent was invigorating, sweeping up from the woman's nimble body to grace upon my presence and take me up in a heat that was startlingly dizzying. I realized that C.C. was quite aware of my reaction as her golden eyes did not watch her victim but claimed my own. A smile was at her lips, teasing in its entirety and making me further aware of my own distractions.

"Such is the power of the Toreador, the vampyr that seduces their victim before their final breaths," explained C.C. with prompt. "You belong now to the Kindred, the vampire mass. As a child of the clan of Toreador it is well within your ability to corrupt the mind and bodies of the cattle. This brainless woman is neither equipped to deny our call nor is it that she wishes too…"

"What is Toreador?" I wondered. C.C.'s smile spoke of blood, pain, and oh so deliciously evil sex. I did not quite react to her touch even as her free hand was placed upon my stomach, or did I shy away as her hand dipped below my waistline. It was C.C.'s watchful golden eyes that held my attention then, captivating in a manner I was ill used to, shining with varying degrees of insanity and temptation than I could deny.

"_We_ are Toreador; it is _we_ who are known as the succubus and the incubus to the human cattle," C.C.'s voice was as much honey as the scent that was coming from her skin. It rose and spilled over me, drowning me in an intoxication that had nothing to do with drugs or the bottle. At the same time I felt her fingers dancing across my belt, and then dipping below my waistline. Cold and impossibly hot synchronously, her hand grasped at me, drawing a ragged breath from my throat. C.C.'s giggle sounded quite mad and almost eager simultaneously. "Yes, you shall do quite nicely…"

"C.C.," my voice was but a breath, barely even a name at my lips. To both my quiet relief and immense dissatisfaction, my maker removed herself from my person. If I were a living man I would be colored as if from a tomato and sweltering as if I were an onion cooking on a pan. Surprise expelled from my mouth as my creator's nimble hands made quick work of the bindings of my pants, exposing me to the air.

Revealed as I was, C.C.'s cold and hot hand found me again, stroking furiously as if to excite me into a flame. I groaned in echo with Villetta as my maker manhandled the both of us with deft hands and confident movements.

"You will find, my pet, that there is always more than one way to skin a cat," proclaimed C.C. as she tugged me forward. Her motions brought me to stand before our prey, who was watching my master's demanding hand with a vacant expression on her face as if she were void of thought or reason, a mindless doll to which my maker thought to satisfy her curiosity.

C.C.'s cool breath was like a calming drink after living for days aching in thirst. "It's all too _easy_ to drown a mind in pleasure. Blood is not the lone elixir that binds the spirit to our being. Should you not ease her suffering?" C.C. whispered, her voice liken to a blade in the heart.

"You, woman, Villetta!" exclaimed C.C., turning her attention now to the woman whose fate that she did so play with like a child in a sandbox. "Does my Soul Reaver not inspire your imagination? Does not your body quake with a need that you have never known?" Distracted as she was, Villetta was not aware of her body's actions, responding to my master's beck and call with a nod. "If you so wish to convince us of your worth, should you not seek to quench your thirst on the drink he offers?" My maker's hand had barely removed itself from my masculinity before it was replaced by Villetta's mouth, so impossibly hot that I could not help the roar that was of a fury that could not be claimed to be of anger.

"Calm yourself, my dear," C.C. soothed, cool hands brushing at my cheeks to distract my warring mind. "There is no trickery, no veiled hand that would hide our motives. It is in our power to excite lust, but it is her choice all the same."

Desperately, I hissed at her now, spitting anger and lust from my eyes as if they were blades that I could wield with my mind. "Did you not claim that you saw no reason to make her a ghoul? Did you not say that she was untrustworthy? Why now do I find myself at her mercy?"

"Still so simple," C.C. remarked, even as I turned my attention away, too distracted by the rising tide of joy and weakness that rose over me, brought about by a woman who desperately tended to my being. "There is no denying that she is of value, though not necessarily worthy of becoming a ghoul. Should we not make use of her? There is so few options that we could take to bind her to us. Best to take this route and make her a Mistress of the Dark," C.C. intoned, as if the very pronouncing of her words would act as a binding in a ritual.

A sensation that I never had known rose up in me then, a rising tide from the darkness buried deeply in my soul. I felt it overwhelm my person and wash over us, sinking deep into flesh and bone and tissue. I became aware of the scent of Villetta's lust rising and the sensation of her taking more necessary breaths around my male hood. Quickened as she was, I knew something profound was infusing our beings.

"This is a contract?" I cried, furious now as I turned my burning eyes to my maker. C.C. nodded resolutely.

"It would be such a waste to slay her now. Better to make use of her by binding her to you in a different fashion. These chains that you do hold will inspire loyalty, and should you so feel the need it is possible to elevate her to a ghoul," explained C.C.

"Damn you!" exclaimed I, though as I reached for my maker I felt the weakness in my being escalate quickly so that I fell into my creator's slender grasp. "I do not wish to subvert another's will." I became aware of C.C.'s golden gaze upon mine as she stroked a hand down my cheek.

"We all make our choices," it was only cruelty that defined her smile then. I wavered for only a few seconds more before I quickened beyond measure and erupted. And there was no stopping the fount or the reaction of our victim as she took me in and devoured my offering.

"It is done," proclaimed C.C.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note:

Hmm…yeah, this chapter was a little strange for me. I flip flopped between deciding whether to kill Villetta or make her a ghoul, and ultimately decided to throw both out the window. It was a simple question really; how would a vampire have sex with a human? The answer; they don't!

Yeah…this is going to have a big impact in the story, because I essentially just killed off Villetta without actually killing her. What I mean is that the character she was in canon is gone. Now there is only Villetta the slave: a Mistress of the Dark.

Oh, yeah, anyone who got the reference, well, I'm basing this story's vampirism on a lot of different sources, the two main sources being the Legacy of Kain series and the Classic World of Darkness Story Telling RPG game. The Toreador, for instance, is a vampire clan in the Classic World of Darkness series, but overall the vampire species is more like the Legacy of Kain vampires. They have a rich history that, if this story actually becomes official than I will proceed to expand upon.

So, yeah… I'm still not going to make any guarantees, but it's looking more and more with each chapter that this story is going to become an official fanfiction of mine. As conflicted as I am with this story, I'm still enjoying writing it…so, yeah, we'll see.

Ta.

Professor Image.


	6. A Fool of a Kind

Disclaimer: Most of the material included in this work of fiction I do NOT claim the copyright for. Should you recognize something included in this story than I probably don't claim the copyright for it, pretty much. I wrote this story with only entertainment purposes in mind, so I haven't made any monetary gain off this work of fiction, either. I would appreciate it if no one sued me. This story is intended for a mature audience and should not be read by anyone under the age of majority in their area. Warnings: Violence, Gore, Death, Language, Alcohol and Drug references, Racism, Sexism, Nudity and Sexual Situations. You have been warned!

* * *

Legacy of Zero:

Blood Omen

A Code Geass Fanfiction by

Professor Image

Book I:

Genesis

Verse VI:

"A Fool of a Kind"

* * *

XXX

* * *

Amidst the utter devastation, the prolific carnage and the sublime chaos of the moment stood I; not nearly so numb to the view of the battleground from which I stood that I at first appeared. _She _found me there, gazing stoically at the dead that littered the ground as if it were in their silence that would tell me the secrets of this life. She was not quite as chaste or benign as she approached, her voice as a whiplash to my back, shocking me from my own reverie.

"You are angry with me," C.C. said plainly, and it was her voice that was so soft and yet so sharp. I turned from my ponderings to her, and the expression that she beheld upon my own was not unkind but neither was it understanding. This face that she did wear was the face of a murderer who could not understand simple compassion. "You do not like her?"

"What would you make of me? What is this curse that you have thrust upon me? My soul burns with the horror of what you have made me!" said I. C.C neither showed fault or concern for my anger. A wane smile came upon her face, the cruelty in her expression turning her pleasant face hideous.

"And what would you make of _me_, my angel, and my sword? Am I your cruel mistress, that devil which sits upon your shoulder and beguiles to do evil? Do you hate me for my gifts? Do you despise me for wanting your companionship? I am a monster, yes, but I am also a woman. It is time that I found comfort in the arms of another," this she did explain with prompt. Her visage became grim with condescension as she approached me, not nearly as wary of me as I was of her. When she came within an arm's expanse she reached out to stroke my right cheek.

I tensed with the urge to either flee or fight, but so soft was her touch that it calmed the raging spirit of the beast inside me. Her eyes were yet still unkind, but her voice was smooth and gentle as she spoke to me.

"These feelings that you cling so desperately to are fleeting. You can no longer hold onto them or you would nest tragedy in your heart. We are monsters, yes, there can be no denying such a fact, and should you forget this fact and feed those human qualms you will experience such agony that death would be such a sweet release," said she.

"To what do you speak? It is my own life, this life that you so play with like a child with a toy! I am not your weapon, woman, nor am I the product for your amusement! Release me from your torment at once! I wish not to remain in your presence any longer!" exclaimed I. Laughter, so sweet and melodic erupted from her mouth, her head shaking as she stepped closer to my person.

"This life that you do live is not yours to command. You belong to me, C.C., who has brought you from the domain of death for the sole purpose of being my companion for eternity, and it is this unlife that belongs to me! You, whose very life was cut short so soon from our first meeting, it is you that is bound to I, and it is I that is bound to you! So tightly is it that we are bound that wherever should you go that I will be compelled to follow and should you die I will quickly find the breath of life stolen from my lips. Do not understand what I have given to gift you this chance? I will no more let my hold on you relinquish then you could pull the moon from the sky!" such was the intensity of her compulsion that I did not speak until at last she had fallen silent.

"What is this to which you speak? What lies do you spew forth like a fount? Do not take me for a fool, wench!" this shout drifted across the grounds. Affronted as she was, I found C.C.'s hands gripping tightly to my own cheeks, nails that sprouted into claws digging shallow cuts into my skin, and it was her fangs that were bared to me now as she shrieked her rage.

"Do not insult me, child of my curse! I shall speak no lies for the truth is ever crueler and more compelling than they! The heart of a vampyr, _my_ heart, cannot be regrown whence torn from the chest! To survive, a vampyr must take the heart of another for theirs!" roared she. She shook me bodily, and at last, ill content was I to allow her to abuse me so, I threw out my hand and pushed her from me. She glided away, as if on bat wings, the action so smooth and sudden that I could barely keep track. And then she was upon me once more, thrusting me solidly into the building behind my person, crushing plaster and brick around us and forming a shallow hollow where she held me quite still.

"I am not fragile as a human,_ boy_! You will listen when I speak or I shall tear your arms off and beat you into submission with them!" she shouted. I snarled at her, and she returned with her own accompanying hiss. "You _will_ listen to me, if not because of our bond then because I am your sire and you are my child! You are still too young to fight me yet, boy, and you will do to remember that!" as her monologue wound down she withdrew herself from me, and the next moment she was several meters away, her golden gaze smoldering with repressed rage. I slid from the indent in the wall, stumbling to find perchance on the ground.

I, Lelouch Lamperouge, once proud prince of a world power, now found myself quite mortified to be manhandled by a woman hardly big enough to reach my chin. I sneered at her, and her smile was amused at my anger.

"Listen now to my words, my angel," C.C. began again, voice and face without infliction, expressionless as a stone statue. "What was done cannot be taken back. You are vampyr now. Wherever you go I shall follow. There is nowhere that you can run. And if I should ever learn that you ran to the underside of hell to escape me, than I shall gladly cast myself into oblivion to follow. Insolence does not compliment you, my sword."

"How can I trust your word? You, a creature of sin and evil, of corruption and vileness, how can I trust that you speak the truth?" question I.

"You cannot," she agreed with a nod, holding me in a state of myriad disbelief. "It is true that we are creatures of sin and corruption. Our very natures invariably curse others to living this shameful unlife and tempt even more to slay their brothers for our favor; as it was in the beginning and as it has remained for an eternity of sin."

"But I speak the truth, for it is a potent, sharp blade that can turn brothers against each other. I have lived for over a millennia in the shadows, watching as man slay man, as man stole from the earth for riches and luxuries, and as man coveted their neighbor's wife. If man sins, then we are sin eaters, and it is for each life we take that frees others from the torment of another's sins.

"I chose to give you my heart, bridging a connection between us. It is this bond that ties our destinies together. I could have chosen another, and it might have been for the best if I had, but I still chose to make you into my Soul Reaver. For that, there is no turning back. Just as you are my Soul Reaver, I am yours, your blade, your shield, your Angel of Death. There can be no other to which I can give my heart. From now until Armageddon come, we are companions, we are mates…"

At last C.C. fell silent, allowing me once more to absorb her explanation, as if time could sooth the raging fire of fury and sorrow in my soul. I became at once aware of the furious expression upon my face, my mouth opened and baring my fangs to her. She did not react to my aggression, waiting in silence. I stilled my anger and turned away from her, as if the loss of sight would blot her from my life.

"You have unmade me! You have stolen more from my life than mere words can convey! I rage at you! I curse you into the pit! You, who has plucked me from the jaws of death as if that gave you the _right_ to claim ownership of my heart and soul, it is you who deserves death!" I shouted, picking up one of the corpses and hurling it at her. She batted it away as if it were an annoying fly, waiting until I had at last vented my fury completely.

"I am a wicked and selfish woman, yes, there is no lie," said C.C., her voice strangely somber and quiet as she addressed me. "Such a despicable woman I am that I would see the exchange of life for your heart and soul as equal payment. Hate me, yes, that is what I deserve, but listen to me as your sire at least." She advised.

"It is these human emotions that you feel that will ruin you. The beast that lies slumbering within your soul cannot be suppressed for long. Never forget that you are a monster, a wolf that preys upon the sheep known as man. But you are a wolf wearing sheep skins. Do not ever forget, however, that you are a wolf first and foremost, and a wolf can never remain amongst the sheep for any length of time before the hunger takes control.

"And so I will leave you now with this warning: protect your heart, and avoid silver and fire, because these things can harm you, even kill you if you are not careful. Avoid wounds to the head — though not a mortal injury, damage to the brain is slow to heal and could take years or even centuries for your nature to fix. If you should be so hurt you will not be in any condition to act on your own.

"Goodbye," finished C.C., striding away from me for a scant few paces until at last she disappeared as if she were but a wraith.

She left me there on the street, in the middle of a warzone. Surrounded by the dead and dying, canon fire in the air, explosions rocking the street, I was finally, and most alarmingly, alone.

And strangely, this thought did not bring me comfort.

* * *

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry 'bout the wait, everyone. I got held up on some Harry Potter fics that I'm writing currently. But I'm back!

I've got to write another chapter for one of my HP fics in the next few days, but after that I intend to update this story again! Don't worry!

There's nothing to say right now. There were a lot of revelations in this chapter. Everything's going to start picking up in the next. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

Still no promises about the next chapter, but I'll try and get it out soon.

Anyways, please review this chapter and tell me your thoughts! I always enjoy hearing what my reader's think of my work!

Ta.

Professor Image.


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